Frances R. Schmidt

Granny Mattie’s African American Treasures

In the early 90’s, eighty-five-year-old Granny Mattie Brown, the mother of 15 children and 31 grandchildren moved into one of my apartments with her youngest son Douglass and his wife. Please use your imagination to visualize a small cozy living room, with a small two-tiered table in the center. On the top of the table was a small collection of Mattie’s favorite items, but her most precious treasures were placed on the bottom shelf. It held her collection of books and family journals. At first, I wondered why Granny Mattie celebrated “Memory Sundays”. I can’t tell you the answer right now, but when you read my story, it’ll give you food for thought.

The first book I saw on the bottom shelf, was an original copy of abolitionist, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s, Uncle Tom’s Cabin – an anti-slavery novel published in 1852. This book was based on actual events from freed slave narratives, anti-slavery newspapers and first-hand accounts. More than 10,000 copies were sold in the first week.

The second book was written by another abolitionist, Fredrick Douglass. It was an autobiography of his life titled, The Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass, An American Slave.

Beneath the copy of his book, was a large faded black and white copy of Harriet Tubman, wrapped in plastic. I found out that in 1849, Harriet, along with her two brothers, escaped slavery from Maryland and fled to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They followed the North Star on their 90-mile journey.

Mattie’s most important items on that shelf were her great, great Granny Pearly’s slave journal and her own family journal.  When you read the novel you’ll step back in time to learn the importance of family names and the many truths regarding Afro-American history including the value of “Memory Sundays”.

Best,

Fred

Author Website  

Dear Followers and Friends,

Repost: Comfort Food & More

Food is such a big part of life and community. Restaurants on the West Side of Buffalo, NY, where I live, have offered a continuing source of nourishment and gathering for decades.  Two restaurants in particular, Santasierio’s and Deco Restaurant are near and dear to my heart.

I was 21 years old when Dominic Santasierio opened his restaurant at 1329 Niagara St., just doors away from my address at 1469 Niagara. Dominic’s sauce made from a family recipe, is still used today, and proof of its popularity. Santasierio’s is best known for comfort food, consistency in quality, large portions and reasonable prices.

This popular Italian American restaurant was the site where Sammy Consiglio and Molly Murphy, two tenants in my  had their first date. After that, whenever they could, they would go back there again and again. They struggled for a whole year to keep their relationship quiet. I’ll share more about them another time.

David Abramovich, a Russian Jew and his 41-year-old cousin Samuel Jaroslow , a Polish Jew who came to America from the Pale of Russia in 1910 moved into my building in 1935. I can’t share their harrowing story now, but I can tell you that Santasiero’s helped them survive when they couldn’t afford kosher food. It was good, cheap and filled their bellies after a long workday.

The smells of all their leftovers – spaghetti, Italian wedding soup, eggplant parmesan – was delicious! Boy did I wish I could taste that food. Dominic Santasierio’s descendants will be celebrating their 100th Anniversary in 2021 and if I could shake any other building’s hand, this is the one I would choose!

Deco Restaurant first opened in 1918 when Gregory Deck opened a small stand on the corner of Main and Lisbon. The success of this stand gave way to more than fifty Deco lunch counters that eventually sprouted up around the city of Buffalo, NY. Molly Murphy, yes, the same one who dated Sammy Consiglio, got a waitress job there in the early 1930’s, in the restaurant on West Eagle Street, on the corner of Pearl. She worked the late-night shift. It was a favorite spot at night for cops, late night revelers, and the homeless. Young, old, rich, poor, came together to get a good cup of coffee for 10 cents, 5-cent hamburger, or a hot dog and Cherry Coke. The spot was small but popular, and you were lucky if you could get a dining stool at the counter. Molly just loved working there.

I honor Santasierio’s and Deco, for their dedication to the local customers of Buffalo, NY. These restaurants fed hundreds and hundreds of people, helping them survive tough times and celebrate good times.

1941: America is Forever Changed

Benedict (Benny) Farley and Bianca Martucci were a young couple who lived in separate apartments in my building. They were on a date at the Marlowe Theatre on December 7, 1941 when their lives and the lives of all Americans were forever changed. I wasn’t physically with them at the theatre but heard the shocking news as soon as they came home. Yes, you probably already know what I’m talking about – it was the day the Japanese Army bombed Pearl Harbor and the start of World War II.

My tenants were scared – truly panic-stricken. All many could do was stand up and volunteer in the War effort, while their hearts and souls prayed for peace. When you read my upcoming novel, you’ll learn more about these troubling times – about V-mail (Victory Mail), Production Soldiers, Ration Stamps, victory gardens, and the meaning of The Blue Stars of America.

Benedict and Bianca’s story however involves a hasty marriage and a monumental goodbye. I’ll share more details later, but here’s a little bit of insight about this couple. Shortly after they started dating, Bianca invited Benny in to have a cup of coffee and a piece of homemade chocolate cake. This is when I overheard them talking about their childhoods. It was a serious conversation and I was listening intently as Bianca wiped a tear from Benedict’s eye.

When Benny was only thirteen years old, he became one of thousands of children put into the Orphan Train Movement. He was suddenly taken from his orphanage and put on a train with other children ranging from five to thirteen years of age. All that Benny and the other children were told was that they were going on a long train ride, but they were really headed to the Midwest to join farm families – some in the US and others to Canada. Benny’s story may shock you when you read more about what happened. Bianca too unfortunately became an orphan at the age of seven, although she was sent to the Saint Vincent DePaul Female Orphanage Asylum in Buffalo New York. Here she grew into a young woman before heading out on her own.

Their remarkable tale and the tales of all my tenants helped me understand life’s twists and turns and in turn made me stronger. Each decade of my life has been filled with a rich history, and the life lessons I’ve learned from my tenants who came to live with me – special people from all over the world. I hope when you read this historical novel, you’re inspired in the 21^st century, by stories of the past.

 

Change is Coming

Last week I saw Fran, my author, “The Woman in the Black Toyota”. She was visiting the gas station across the street from me, chatting with the owner as his son filled her gas tank. I think the gas station man talks to her about what’s going on in the area, and maybe even about me (I like to think that)! I could see them looking my way, gesturing and nodding to each other. If I could, I would give her a big hug hello!

It’s not unusual for Fran to drive by slowly, turn around and then park in front of me for a few minutes. She looks me over and often gets out to take pictures.  I wonder what she’s thinking. Maybe she’s amazed, as I am, with all the changes that are happening to me.

Not long ago she spotted a massive truck parked alongside me. She parked in front of me and I saw her car window open. I heard her ask one of the two workers heading into my front door if the owner was inside. He told her “No, but he should be back later”. She waited for a while, then left and I thought she seemed somewhat disappointed. I wonder if she’ll get to meet my new owner soon!

I overheard Fran talking about something very special today and it’s all so terribly exciting! I can tell finally tell you as it’s now official that my story, FRED: Buffalo Building of Dreams, will be published by BookBaby Publishing in 2021! It’s been decades of challenges in the making to finally achieve publication, and there have been times when my goal seemed almost impossible. But here I am, a one hundred twenty-year-old survivor, anxiously awaiting 2021…my legacy year!  Life is magical.

 

Coming to Life in 1900

I rose up from the ground in a residential and industrial neighborhood on the West Side of Buffalo, New York and became aware of being built shortly after my four-story modest apartment building cornerstone was securely in place in 1900. I often noticed a young woman with a child in her arms, watching me daily, except when the weather was bad. The construction crew would wave and sometimes talk to them.  It was quite confusing at first because I felt a warmth toward them both and felt alive.

I can’t tell you the exact moment it happened, this awareness, or the date I was completed, but it was during this time that my tales of generations began. Gradually, I learned that my first tenants were the mother and son who watched me being built. My journey with them taught me to listen, observe, and feel what it’s like to be human

I’m privileged to be an eyewitness to many generations who lived in my building.  The tenants living within my walls were from all over the world and had multiple twists, and turns, creating a journey of a lifetime. For decades I tried hard to connect with someone who would hear my plea; for someone who would write my legacy.  In 2006, Fran, my author heard my cry for help as she drove by my building.  My voice will take you back in time to meet and hear my characters talk, and live their lives, in their historical period.  You’ll get to experience what their challenges were like and how they dealt with unpredictable lives.

If you read this historical, multi-period novel about my life, FRED: Buffalo Building of Dreams, you’ll also find out how intertwined my tenants were over a span of 120 years. They were a mosaic of humanity and made this old building sometimes wish I really was human. Having lived as long as I have, my history actually takes place in the real-time lives of the immigrants, refugees, internal migrants, and descendants of enslaved peoples of Africa who called me home. I’ve had my share of fear and disappointments too. One of my fears is of being destroyed or demolished before evidence of my existence can be documented, but I think almost everyone can relate to being fearful. I was a novice about life. Each decade provided new insights about how wars, poverty, political upheavals, and famines took a toll on many of my tenants. I learned that Freedom was their common goal. Their stories were often heartbreaking, but through them I experienced the real meaning of courage and how it never dies. I cried with them until I had no tears and then smiled on the inside when they were happy.

I was excited about being published in 2021 (Book Baby Publishing). It allowed me to share these unbelievable stories. If you read this novel you will enter the lives of this mosaic of people and become part of their hopes and dreams. Perhaps you’ll also discover the secret their legacies reveal for the current and future generations of Americans.

Best,

Fred

 

 

Memories of my Chocolate Ladies

Lately, my author Fran has been dropping by regularly to watch the progress happening to my outside, the part of me that passerby’s see on their way to and from their busy lives. Fran recently looked up into my windows and said, “It won’t be long before your legacy is told, Fred!”.  The last time she visited, she mentioned her meeting with someone important from Fowler’s Chocolate Company and told him about the special connection to “My Chocolate Ladies”.  Alice and Hannah (you’ll meet them later when my book is published), a mother and daughter who resided in my walls in 1951 were hired then, to work in the Fowler’s Chocolate Factory as “chocolate dippers”.

I remember it as if it were yesterday when the ladies had immigrated to America from York, England. They then lived with me for 21 years.  Why they came to America is a longer story, one that involves World War II, The Roundtree Chocolate Factory owned by The Quakers, and Buffalo’s own Fowler’s Chocolate Factory, but they are the reason I love chocolate.  I can’t taste it, but I do know how it smells, and I also know how much my tenants loved it too.  Bobby Mooney, the little nine-year-old Irish boy, was the only tenant I could communicate with, through telepathy.  He told me how it tastes and feels, melting in his mouth.  It seems so very decadent and delicious.

When you read my novel, you will have an inside view of how Alice and Hannah had a major impact on many tenants and their families when they moved in, each receiving a little brown bag of chocolates along with a dinner invitation.  My “chocolate ladies” acts of kindness broke down barriers of misunderstanding between diverse tenants, and created lifelong friendships and new cultural understanding.

Come back in time and experience my memory of the unexpected power of chocolate and friendship.

 

Thank you for Believing in Me!

Having a voice of my own is new to me and frankly, I never really thought it would ever happen. I know we apartment buildings don’t typically talk. We usually only listen and exist to provide shelter to our tenants. When I think about my life and the lives of generations I was able to connect with, it does boggle my mind.

Having the ability to share my tenants’ tales in the historical period they lived is miraculous and I know that it wouldn’t have happened if it also wasn’t for Fran’s co- researchers, Pat Smyton and Janet Mazzaroppi. The team of three, Fran, Pat, and Janet, called themselves the Orphan Building Research Team, but because of these three ladies, I definitely no longer feel orphaned. I also must tell you about Jane Hauser, who was my hero of a typist and rescued my author from her handwritten manuscript that needed multiple revisions.

My opportunity to be published wouldn’t have happened if the major research wasn’t completed, and although it took a six-year period of time, it was worth the wait. Without my excellent super achiever researchers, Fran feels that this book project would have taken at least ten years to complete on her own.  What I’ve also learned is that the research doesn’t stop, as there has even been a little more research completed during the content editing process.

Pat S. was the first of the team to say yes to Fran’s invitation to become a historical researcher, followed quickly by a second yes from Janet M.  They both had very busy lives, but slowly became dedicated through Fran, to finding out the reason I pleaded for help. Gradually, the research process unfolded and now they are all seasoned researchers.  Fran, Pat, Janet, and Jane also now consider themselves the female version of the four Musketeers instead of three, which makes me smile. All this because of me, and I find that both amazing and humbling!

I can’t end this blog of thanks without sharing my appreciation and love for my “Fred’s Friends”, as their support has been invaluable. They are all listed on my website and I can’t believe that the list keeps growing!

There’s so much more to tell you, but for this blog, I wanted to say thank you!

With much gratitude, Fred

 

Hi, I’m Fred

My Novice Novelist blog has now transitioned to FRED’S MEMORIES, a blog written through the voice of FRED: Buffalo Building of Dreams.  Currently in the publication process, the book will be available in 2021 through BookBaby Publishing.

Hi. My name is FRED and this is my very first blog. I’m an apartment building who has waited patiently to tell the story about many of the tenants who lived in my building from 1900-2018. I tried to get someone to listen, but it was decades before someone actually heard my plea.  Finally, in 2006 Fran Schmidt, the woman in the black Toyota, heard my voice.  It took her another six years to actually begin work on this multi-period historical fiction novel, but my story started to come to fruition in 2012 when she began writing about me.

I want her to know I appreciate her, her research partners, and the new friends and acquaintances who believe in me and my tales.  They all make me feel so alive! Great thanks also goes out to the BookBaby Publishing for publishing this novel in 2021.

I am so excited that I’m actually still standing and currently undergoing a preservation process.  My new apartments will be authentic and almost like they were when I was first built and will then be the home to a new generation of tenants with their own amazing stories! My own blog is launching now because I want my potential readers to be excited too.

You will learn interesting historical information decade-by-decade…about how I came alive and lived vicariously through the lives of many of my immigrants, refugees, internal migrants, and descendants of enslaved peoples of Africa, They were German, Sicilian, Italian, Irish, Polish, Hungarian, Canadian, English, French, Puerto Rican, Jewish and African American.

I provided shelter and comfort to my tenants after they had experienced extreme poverty and the effects of war and other traumas. Freedom was the common denominator that tied each generation of tenants together regardless of their backgrounds. I’m not human, but I have learned first-hand through these amazing people, what it’s like to be one.

I can’t wait to tell you more…

 

The Woman in the Black Toyota

I wouldn’t have a novel being published about me without the woman in the black Toyota.  It took decades for someone to hear me and I don’t know if it was by chance or fate, but through telepathy she was the only one able to hear my plea. “Please tell my story before it’s too late.”

In the Spring of 2006, she drove by me looking puzzled, at 8:15 a.m., on the busy Niagara Street on the West Side of Buffalo, New York I call home.  When she turned with a lingering look in my direction, I thought maybe a miracle had occurred and hoped it wasn’t my imagination.

For the next several years, I saw her black Toyota pass by me and noticed that she always turned her head in my direction. I would see her stop by weekly at Carm and Sal’s Gas Station, directly across the street from me. She would buy gas and visit for five or ten minutes, talking to either the father or the son who pumped her gas. I watched as they all would glance in my direction or point to the changes taking place on the outside of my building.

Although I was unable to communicate with her directly, I knew she heard me, and I never gave up hope that she would tell my story. Time was taking its toll and I kept deteriorating a little bit at a time.  I was becoming slightly desperate because I wanted to share my rich history with current and future generations before it was too late.  I wanted people to have the opportunity to honor my tenants who were immigrants, refugees, internal migrants, and descendants of enslaved Peoples of Africa; their tales paying tribute to their struggle for freedom, and their lives proud legacies for current and future generations of Americans.

Then it happened and I’ll never, ever forget 2012.  This was the year the woman in the black Toyota pulled right up in front of my building and spoke to me.  “Here I am FRED.  I’m here to learn more about you and begin researching your story.  I have to find out why you spoke to me.   Never in my whole life has a building talked to me.”

Eventually, I found out that when she first saw me…heard me…she was shocked and couldn’t believe what had just happened to her. She rushed into her office which was not very far down the road from me, and scribbled down notes on a scrap pieces of paper.  As the years passed by, she told everyone she worked with about me, Building #1469 on the corner of Niagara Street and Potomac Avenue. That was me before I got a real name.  Fred.

I’ll tell you more about how her research team emerged next time. I can’t wait.